lvpd_sidle | Las Vegas: September 10, 2006

"Warrick never drinks his before it gets cold anyway. Abuse of perfectly good coffee," Sara points out, drinking hers. "I'm guessing we're all assembling in the break room to be told we need to do paperwork?"

At Greg's nod, she starts down the hall, the other two following.

Mark flails a moment, before stopping himself. "Er, I don't mean to take someone else's coffee." But then, he takes a sip. "Damn. I need to get some of this stuff. Perhaps I'll finally get Roger to stop drinking instant." He falls silent, though, following them down the hall, eyes taking in what his camera can't at the moment.

Various lab personnel are at work stations, running tests and waiting for results.

The night shift CSIs typically gather in the break room for case assignments. Only there are no new active cases, which leaves them with two options.

1) Paperwork.
2) Cold cases.

But at any rate, when Sara, Mark, and Greg walk in the door, they find the others assembled.

"...of course, I doubt anything would be probative at this point," Grissom says to Nick before nodding a greeting to the others.

Mark nods to Grissom, then instinctively finds a space by one of the walls to lean against and watch. He's not looking at the papers, more at the mess, and everyone assembled. It's fascinating, in a way. Somehow not all that different from a staff meeting of Today For You. But it is completely different.

"All right. Everyone, we do have a visitor to the lab tonight. I'd suggest behaving well, otherwise I will pair you with Sara at the next available opportunity."

Sara smirks. Warrick shakes his head. Nick chuckles and Catherine gives Sara a hi-five.

"Greg, would you mind telling us where you've gotten on the Meller case?"

"Dirt!" says Greg enthusiastically.

The usual crickets of everyone staring at him trying to figure out where he's going with this never fail to appear.

"... no, really, dirt. Diatomes don't match, meaning the brother's alibi checks, meaning we have no suspects."

Mark mutters under his breath, more than likely just audible to anyone right next to him. "Now that's gettin' the dirt on that case if you ask me." He's cheerful, not in any way actually needling Greg. It's just, well, he's used to snide remarks in staff meetings, and typically if he doesn't make them, someone else will.

Sara happens to be next to him and gives him an amused look. "If that's the case, we should probably go over it again and see if we missed something," she points out to Greg. "I still don't like the way the husband was acting, but we can't make arrests on hunches."

It's usually Greg, but as he can't make fun of himself, someone has to do it.

"I'm pretty sure his alibi checked too. Everyone loved this woman." He stops to think, and suggests, seemingly at random, "Maybe she wasn't murdered? All the blood could be from a ... an embolus in her stomach, and she could've been bulimic and purged herself to death. Robbins said the stab wound wasn't what caused the exsanguination, after all --"

"I'll call Robbins and see if he checked for that. I don't think she was bulimic, though--her weight was healthy."

"Sara, Greg--you do that. In the meantime, as we have no new cases tonight, catch up on your paperwork."

The meeting is ended and Grissom heads out, glancing at Mark. "I will be doing an entomological timeline this evening--would you like to observe that? I doubt you would want to go to the morgue."

A flash of something crosses Mark's eyes as he leans against the wall, as he shakes his head. This time, he has no comments about anything. He had to deal with Cindy's bulimia for too many years, and blood, well, let's just say that's not one of his favourite things in the world.

He smiles at Grissom, however, at his offer. "Sure." Granted, bugs aren't exactly his thing, especially with the latest Building Ant Infestation, but he's in no mood to see someone dead.

The process isn't exactly the most congenial thing in the world.

Grissom takes insects previously gathered from the corpse (different case) and begins pinning them up on a long sheet of styrafoam, murmuring notes to himself.

"This particular insect is indigenous to the Las Vegas area--this one," he says, pointing at another, "is typically found in Southern California."

Mark watches, keeping to himself, and eyeing the bugs. A few of them, he can't exactly tell the difference between, but he doesn't question. He's seen tiny differences in films that no one else has been able to see. It's all in what you're trained, or what you've trained yourself to see. He actually is a bit more interested in Grissom himself, the way he goes about pinning the bugs, and how he deliniates the different types.

Grissom isn't the kind of person anyone (aside from Jack) would consider graceful. Distinguished, intelligent, yes.

But handling insects is his domain.

"This could mean that the victim was in Southern California before she was murdered, but considering other factors, that is unlikely. It probably came from the killer," he concludes softly, writing some notes. And judging from the larval development, this woman was in the woods for approximately sixteen months."

Mark's still leaning against the wall, paying a lot more attention than it looks like. Part of him is keeping up a running mental narration to Grissom's work, and the other part of the brain is asking all the questions he's dying to know. "Is it possible that the bug came from some random passer-by and latched onto the corpse? How the hell can a dead body lie in a woods for sixteen months without anyone finding it? Wouldn't it smell? Wouldn't the person in question's family or friends miss them before then? Why wasn't a better search conducted? Why are people that stupid? It's probably good that he keeps his mouth shut, though.

"Given the location of the body, it is doubtful anyone found it before the hikers discovered it. And the hikers did not have insects on them," Grissom comments, answering a few of Mark's questions.

At that point, Sara pokes her head in the door. "Update on the Meller case--seems Greg's theory might prove correct."

"Good," Grissom says approvingly. Then he grins. "Here to rescue Mark?"

"No--you haven't put him in an experiment."

Well, hell, the man's not only a bug expert, he's a mind reader. Mark chuckles to himself, then smiles a bit ruefully as Sara walks in the door. "No, er, I haven't been called into service yet. As a dead body, or as a bug."

"It'd be difficult for him to use you as a bug--"

"--there are adjustments that could be made--"

"--that wasn't an invitation for you to try, Griss." They grin at each other, then Sara turns back to Mark. "I was going to go down to the DNA lab--wanna come?"

"Crap. That'll teach me not to open my mouth." Mark grins, though. "I have to say, Kyle's dressed me up as a lot of things, but not a bug. It would be a new experience." He turns to Sara, though, and smiles. "Sure. I'll come with you."

And they start down the hall once again before another technician interrupts, needing her help.

While Sara's busy with that, Warrick taps him on the shoulder. "Can I talk to you?"

Mark was, for a moment, caught up in watching Sara work with the tech, so he starts slightly at Warrick's tap. "Oh, er, sure. You're Warrick, right?" He smiles, flailing slightly. Give the boy credit for trying.

"Yeah, I'm Warrick Brown." He smiles, friendly enough, but his eyes are assessing.

"It's kind of a funny thing--Sara originally came here to investigate me. I hated her for that, and for the fact that Grissom asked her to stay. Add in that she was so damned good at the job and I didn't think I'd ever be able to work with her."

Here he pauses, studying Mark again. "I've never been so glad to be wrong about someone."

"She's damn good at what she does. I haven't exactly seen her completely in action before, but I can just tell. It's just who she is." Mark's tone is simple, but there's a distinct hint of his love of Sara in his words.

Warrick nods. "She's one of the best and I'm glad she came back after Ecklie got his head out of his ass. Of course, hearing him grovel in front of us didn't hurt." He chuckles.

"I met Barry when she brought him through here. Good man. But he didn't make her smile like you do. Just...keep her smiling."

Mark coughs, looking around a bit furtively. "I hope for everyone's sake, I don't see him just yet. I, er, have a couple words for him. Most of which I'll contain." Barely. His expression softens, though, turning thoughtful. "I certainly plan to keep doing just that as long as she'll have me."

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